


See You In Hell

by Minor Fandoms (HMSquared)



Series: The Complicated Lives of Colson and Marshall [3]
Category: Music RPF
Genre: Almost Kiss, Ambiguity, And it stuck, Complicated Relationships, Concerts, Creepy, Crying, Demonic Possession, Flashbacks, Inspired by Music, Kelly's nickname for Eminem is a weird one I came up with, M/M, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Nicknames, References to Depression, Shooting, Somewhere between love and hate, change, for some reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/Minor%20Fandoms
Summary: Eminem invites Kelly to a concert with every intention of ending their feud.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The last line has nothing to do with the story, but it's what inspired this. Originally, it was going to be the title, but I don't feel comfortable using an F-Bomb there.
> 
> Enjoy!

The envelope caught Kelly's attention as soon as he got the mail. It was different from the others: a crackly, faded yellow with traces of brown in the folds. There was no return address, nothing to indicate who it was from. Just his name and location.

Stepping inside, he set down the mail and rifled through it. Everything else was junk (aside from a few bills), so they got tossed. Soon all that remained was the envelope; carefully picking it up, Kelly stared in wonder.

Opening the envelope, he turned it upside down, causing a few pieces of paper to tumble out onto the counter. Setting it aside, Kelly turned back to the contents. The first thing that caught his attention was a white ticket, much like the ones you get at the movies. The words "Encore-Featuring Eminem" were stamped across it, with a date and time underneath.

The other thing in the letter was a poster. Carefully unfolding it, Kelly was greeted by a picture of Eminem surrounded by a fancy gold border. Underneath said pictures were words, but a large black arrow had been drawn over them. Raising an eyebrow, he turned it over.

_Having my last show tonight. You should come...or not, I don't care._

Kelly stifled a chuckle. That was Eminem: terse, rude, and spontaneous. Looking between the poster and the ticket, he thought about what to do.

They didn't get along, something the internet was well aware of. But maybe Eminem was finally retiring, and he hadn't told anybody. Maybe he wanted to rub it in Kelly's face. Yeah, that seemed reasonable.

Something else caught his attention. There was a small note at the bottom, one Kelly had initially missed.

_Oh, and try to wear something nice. Wouldn't want to puke my brains out or have you making everyone sick._

And that was how, four hours later, Kelly found himself in the lobby of a theatre in a suit. He wasn't wearing a tie (God forbid), but he certainly looked different; his suit was a light gray and his trademark sunglasses were gone. After all, Eminem had told him to look presentable.

Running his fingers through his spiky blonde hair, Kelly scanned the crowd with little interest. People were milling about, chatting about Encore and what the rapper had planned next. After a couple of minutes, something occurred to him.

_They don't know. _It struck Kelly at the water fountain as he hydrated and people-watched. Everyone seemed bubbly, excited. They had no idea Eminem had something huge planned.

Truth be told, Kelly didn't know either. He didn't know that as he straightened up, as the guards ushered everyone into the theatre, Eminem was sitting backstage and preparing to leave the world behind.

When the curtains opened and the show began, Kelly understood why Eminem had told him to dress nicely. The prick was wearing a freaking suit, complete with a red tie. He looked more like a CEO than a rapper.

Sometime during the performance of "Mockingbird," Kelly began to sense it. Eminem was watching him in the corner of his vision, though not in an obvious way. When he reached the final line of the song, the rapper finally looked over...and that's when Kelly saw it.

There was fear in his eyes; regret. But before he could process it, Eminem was already pretending it didn't happen and moving on to "Crazy In Love." Kelly had never seen that look in him before, and he would most certainly never forget it.

After the last song had been rapped, a (seemingly) genuine smile appeared on Eminem's face. Allowing himself to chuckle, he stepped up to the mic and said to the audience,

"Now, since this is one-night-only, I figured I should give you guys a treat. There's a song that Dre, myself, and a few other people worked on. I've never done it live before, so you'll have to bear with me." And with that, he started rapping "Encore."

Something about it didn't sit easily with Kelly. He wasn't sure why, but his gut was telling him things were about to get really bad and he needed to move. But then Eminem looked over for a split second, and the rage in his pupils was enough to paralyze even the man who called himself Machine Gun Kelly.

Five minutes and forty-nine seconds later, the song was over. Rising from their seats, everyone cheered and applauded wildly; Kelly didn't cheer, but he quietly applauded and watched Eminem with interest.

As he bowed, there was a tiny flick of the wrist. No one else saw it, but Kelly did, and that's when the pieces finally clicked. Eyes widening, he fought the urge to run, the urge to scream and give everyone time to flee. Instead, wincing, he painfully sat down back in his seat, suddenly grateful he was at the back of the theatre.

Straightening back up, Eminem coldly stared at the crowd. Keeping his left hand behind his back, a devious smile flashed...and then he said, in a tone that wasn't entirely his own,

"I would say good-night, but you're coming with me!" And as Kelly slowly rose from his chair, ready to bolt, Eminem revealed the silver gun between his fingers and fired.

Chaos filled the theatre. The guards went down instantly, the only precise shots Eminem made. Kelly noticed this as he ushered the survivers outside: no one seemed to be a target, it was simply a free-for-all.

Out in the lobby, Kelly pressed himself against the wall and shut his eyes. The sounds of screaming and footsteps filled his ears. He didn't count the shots, didn't try to figure out how many people were fleeing. All he did was shake and shut out all rational thought.

A couple of minutes later, the sounds of a door slamming jolted him awake. Swallowing, Kelly looked over his shoulder and saw through the doors that Eminem was gone. He could see people lying on the floor and steps, but he was too shaken to count how many.

The lights in the service hallway were still on. Peeling himself from the bricks, Kelly unbuttoned his jacket and walked down to Eminem's dressing room, wondering what exactly he would find.

His footsteps echoed on the cold floor; if Eminem truly cared, Kelly would be dead by now. But he didn't, allowing his frenemy to find him in a weakened state. Allowing him to pull back the layers and find out just what exactly made him human.

The door to the dressing room was cracked. Shaking, Kelly reached forward and slowly pushed it open with his right hand. What greeted him wasn't pretty.

Everything was a shambles. Several crumpled pieces of yellow paper littered the floor and table. The vanity mirror had been punched, and though it hadn't broken completely, a few shards were shoved on the floor between the back of the table and the wall. Sitting up against the left wall (the one parallel to the door) was Eminem; the barrel of the gun was in his mouth, but his finger wasn't on the trigger.

Kelly inhaled sharply, more startled than anything else. For once, he didn't know what to say, wasn't sure how to handle the situation. More than anything, he wasn't sure what state of mind Eminem was in.

The rapper silently looked up at him. His head only made a minute turn, but his eyes were wide in pain and despair. Even with the gun in his mouth, he didn't try to say a word; there was nothing to say, for once.

"Ma-" Kelly broke off; something told him he shouldn't use Eminem's real name. So instead, even though it was embarrassing, he went for something else. "Emi...talk to me." He rose his eyebrows in response.

"Affectionate nickname, Kelly." And it finally hit the younger musician that it was the first time they had spoken in person. Traded insults on social media, yes, but this was the first time they had said anything to each other's faces since their feud began.

The main question Kelly wanted to ask was why. Why had Eminem killed so many people all of a sudden? Why was he now sitting here, ready to take his own life? And why had he invited Kelly in the first place? But he asked none of those questions simply because he was nervous. Intentions or not, Eminem was still holding a gun, and he could very easily turn it on both of them.

Eminem's hand began to shake. His fingers were nowhere near the trigger but even so, he lifted them out of the way. Kelly watched in concern, partly frustrated as well by this whole situation. Because his brain had started thinking about the future.

Someone had to have called the police. Eminem would most surely be arrested, tried, and likely convicted. And Kelly? What would happen to him? Even if he was simply a witness, he couldn't watch the rapper's lawyers declare not guilty by reason of insanity...

He trailed off. Of course. It all made sense, because there was no way in hell Eminem would do this himself. That distinction belonged to someone else, and Kelly found himself shifting awkwardly.

"I know you're listening." Those were the first words that came out of his mouth. Kelly continued to watch, waiting for Eminem to suddenly pull the trigger or do something just as outlandish. About the only thing that happened was his pupils dilated and his shoulders loosened, forming a relaxed position. The smirk from earlier returned, and then he spoke.

"So glad to see you figured it out, Colson." And even though it was Shady's voice saying those words, Kelly felt a shiver on his spine. Eminem was very good at that.

"Why?" The question finally slipped out. His trademark smirk growing, Shady drew the gun away from his (Eminem's!) mouth and stood up.

"Am I not allowed to watch the world burn? He's going through a hard enough time already, and so I just wanted to speed things up." And suddenly going easy on him made sense. Eminem knew that if he killed Kelly, Shady would take over. That's why he had silently watched and waited for the pieces to fit.

"Is his depression because of you, dickbag?" Kelly snapped. Shady was practically the Cheshire Cat at this point, his grip on the gun more relaxed.

"No. Well, my existence caused it, but I haven't..._amplified_ it." The robotic tinkle in his voice cracked, and Kelly found himself tensing. But none of it mattered because Eminem's pupils returned to normal size and he drifted toward him. The look on his face was almost unreadable, but it all made sense when they found themselves inches away from each other.

"Colson..." Another shiver. Looking at his nose, eyes half-open and trying not to process, Eminem whispered, "I'm not gay, I swear I'm not." And Kelly understood that feeling perfectly; so many of their tweets had taught him that.

"Marshall." Kelly reached a hand up to his jaw, rubbing his cheek with his other thumb. Eminem smiled a small smile (an accomplishment for him) and for a few seconds, it seemed like everything would work out.

But everything didn't work out. It wasn't a surprise to Kelly, and he had accepted it the minute Eminem had gotten control back. Their embrace suddenly broke and a single gunshot rang out, striking him just below the left lung. Shooting a nasty sneer his way, Shady fled out the door and back down the hallway. There, in the silence of the empty parking garage, he let go and faded away in pure bliss as Eminem ate his gun. Sure, he hadn't survived...but that hadn't ever really mattered.

_See you in hell, fuckers._


	2. Final Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye.

Eminem's mind was all over the place. He couldn't hold on to a single thought; nothing mattered except for the nasty depression in his brain.

A glance at the clock told him he only had a few minutes. The crowd would be filing into the theatre soon, and he needed to be ready.

Eminem looked up at his reflection. His dark brown eyes didn't look quite right, memories swirling through them like diamonds. More tears were forming, and he could barely keep them in. Leaning forward, he pressed his hands against his eyes and blocked out the light.

His skin stung, and the smell of bleach filled his nose. Jerking back, Eminem looked up. His eyes were now a dark blue and wider than usual. Acid was bubbling over his skin, melting away the beard and turning his brown hair back to blonde.

More crying as his sanity was ripped to shreds. He leaned forward, fists pressed against his forehead. He wanted so badly to grab the gun and just press it to his temple. But that would only be the beginning.

Eminem's reflection moved on its own accord. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed man that was no longer him looked up and smirked. It whispered in his ears, told him bitter sweet nothings. Just had to grab his jacket and go.

_Last one baby, let's go_

_Last one baby, let's go_

_Last one baby, let's go_

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment!


End file.
